Val Morehouse

Rookie - 4 Points (California)

Val Morehouse Poems

1. Power 2/20/2006
2. Swept Away 11/25/2006
3. Mad Kitchen 12/12/2006
4. Paperwork 12/21/2006
5. The Presence 6/3/2007
6. Welk's Champagne Surprise 6/3/2007
7. Doors 6/4/2007
8. Making Guacamole 6/17/2007
9. Suicide Note 9/13/2007
10. Moonbow At Bridal Veil Falls, Yosemite 9/13/2007
11. Tall Meadows (Haiku) 10/13/2007
12. Indian Summer (Haiku) 10/13/2007
13. Sequoia (Haiku) 10/13/2007
14. Natural Bling (Haiku) 10/13/2007
15. Emptiness 10/19/2007
16. The Kite Flyer 11/3/2007
17. Thoughts At Summer's End 11/18/2007
18. Caution: Close Mind Before Striking 10/14/2008
19. Economics Lesson 10/14/2008
20. Sweet Clover 10/14/2008
21. Thanks Giving (Haiku) 12/24/2008
22. Silence (Haiku) 12/27/2008
23. Meeting At The Pond In Winter 12/28/2008
24. Many Knees 12/29/2008
25. Librarian 12/29/2008
26. Brushstrokes 12/29/2008
27. New Year 12/29/2008
28. Dawn 12/29/2008
29. Two Worlds 12/29/2008
30. Farmer's Moon 12/29/2008
31. Morning After Eden 1/2/2009
32. Community Garden 1/30/2009
33. Waking A Matriarch 2/15/2009
34. Searching For The First Kiss 12/26/2007
35. Exquisite 1/20/2008
36. Play Date 4/20/2008
37. Spring Snow 8/13/2008
38. Snowdrops (Prose Poem) 8/24/2008
39. Diablo 5/29/2009
40. Toward The Light 5/29/2009
Best Poem of Val Morehouse

Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child

____version from a traditional slave spiritual,
circa 1860’s...



Shaking with the fierce fright of loneliness
at 2 a.m. Staccato cries rise and flock like night
birds from your swathed blanket.

I drift to your crib still half-wrapped in a nightgown
of sleep. Again I will bend and lift you against my heart.
Wrapped together, we fold into the old wooden rocker,

the one with that special creak in its rock,
adding its moving downbeat to my drumming heart.
In sympathy my own voice breathes out notes,

singing ...

Read the full of Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child

Bessie Ogilvy

Crackle of sun stranded
in blue glass she waits in that
white house so old
her breath haunts the cold
as Bess conducts relatives
along all eighteen doors,
past woodburner parlor logs
and grass someone's kindly
kept in trim. But God Almighty

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